


Starting Over

by helsinkibaby



Series: Inside the Tornado [19]
Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-26
Updated: 2011-05-26
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post "The US Poet Laureate".  Ainsley comes back from vacation, does the talk shows, and talks to the two men in her life.<br/>Nineteenth in the "Inside the Tornado" series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starting Over

There's a pleased smile on my face as I make my way back to my office, walking through the corridors of the White House. While my friends, and indeed, certain members of my family may pour scorn on my decision to work in this Democratic White House, I can't deny that I take great pride in telling people where I work, and what I do. After all, this is something that I've been dreaming about ever since I was a little girl, and to have your dream come true like that is quite the heady experience, no matter what side of the political spectrum the administration might fall on. That being said, it can occasionally irritate me that my friends take such delight in teasing me about representing the White House, as I've done today, and when the teasing takes on a less than friendly bent, I've been known to stand up and walk away. Nonetheless, I take pride in knowing that I have a job to do and that I can do it well.

I know that I did well today, even if I had to cut short my vacation to do it. When my pager went off just as Cassie and I were beginning to catch up - and I had plenty of things to tell her, having not talked to her properly since Leo and I took the first tentative steps to our relationship being put back together again - she really did try to convince me not to answer it. And believe me, I was tempted. For someone who tried hard to get out of going on this vacation in the first place, I was surprisingly loath to leave. I didn't realise how much I needed to get out of Washington until I arrived in Hilton Head. Once I saw that the number was the White House, I knew that my vacation was shot. I hardly needed to call to confirm it, and Ginger was so apologetic on the phone, probably afraid that I was going to ream her out over it. Not that I ever would; after all, I know it's not her fault.

I will admit to feeling a certain anger towards Sam over the whole affair, although he lost no time in telling me that it wasn't his fault that the President made that gaffe, that he wasn't even in the room when that happened. Still, he's the one who called me, he's the one who interrupted my vacation, and the fact that he was gentleman enough to help me with my bags in no way shape or form gets him off the hook for that.

Although I must admit, it's not that I have that many issues with what the President actually said. Let's face it, Robert Richie is not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but since when has that ever helped out a President? I'm well aware that President Bartlet is a highly astute and intelligent man, and given the choice, I'm not so sure that I don't think he's a better choice for President, but the fact remains that the smartest Presidents have not always been the best.

But when I represent the White House, it's not my place to say that, so I went on the television shows that they told me to go on and I towed the line, spinning like Rumplestiltskin.

I'd just much rather be in Hilton Head.

Although, my enforced return to Washington, added with my working with Sam over the precise spin that the White House wants me to put on things at least has answered one of my lingering questions, the possibility of the two of us no longer being able to work together. I will admit, under duress, that I often got a certain vibe, that which Donna would doubtless characterise as "the good vibe", from him. But it was nothing that I was interested in pursuing. After all I told myself, he's a Democrat, I'm a Republican, and ne'er the twain shall meet. Then, when I realised that I was falling for Leo, I was forced to admit that the politics wasn't an issue, more the fact that he simply wasn't the man that I was interested in. And then, Leo and I started seeing one another, and I forgot all about Sam.

I was in a bad place when asked me out, there's no denying that. I was still hurting over Leo, trying to pretend that I was over him, that I was ready to get on with my life. He saw me that night, all dressed up with work to do, and the look on his face, the tone of his voice; I'll admit it, it made me feel good. Who doesn't like to be complimented like that? Aside from Celia that is? When I saw Leo in the mess that night, our conversation was so awkward that all the fun that Celia hadn't sucked out of my day rapidly disappeared, and when I sat down at that table, I was feeling so small.

Then Sam came down, sat himself down beside me, and asked me out. I guess I felt partly flattered. Just as much as the idea that I felt good when he admired me, when he talked to me, when he asked me out. I'd been feeling so down for so long; I just wanted to feel good again.

I would have done it too, were it not for the fact that I found that dollar bill in my pocket, the one that brought back all those memories of Leo and me. That's when I knew that I still loved him, that I'd never stopped, and that I couldn’t go out with Sam. I'd never consciously realised it before that precise moment in time, but there would be no way back from that for Leo and me. We'd be over, really, truly over, and I wasn't ready for that.

Of course, I had to reach that realisation just as the doorbell sounded, and I knew that it was going to be him on the other side, right on time. This is Sam, he wasn't going to be a second late. I was in the middle of a crying jag, one which had started mere seconds before, but the havoc that it had wreaked on my make-up, on my eyes, now bright red, told its own tale, and I knew that there was no way that I'd be able to clean myself up before opening the door. I did my best, taking several deep breaths, wiping away the tears as much as I could, counting to ten in every language that I knew, but a glimpse in the hall mirror told me that I still looked like hell. However, Sam had been ringing the doorbell for what must have seemed like an age to him, and had begun knocking.

So I did the only thing that I could do. I opened the door.

If it's possible, when I saw the look on his face, I felt even worse. He was wearing a nice suit, carrying flowers, and he had a smile on his face that disappeared rapidly once he was the state that I was in. "Ainsley," he managed. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

He stepped forward, letting the flowers drop to his side and putting his free hand on my shoulder, which was the worse thing that he could have done. Solicitude when I'm upset, yet trying to hold myself together, only serves to make me fall apart again, and a fresh round of tears came to my eyes. "I'm ok Sam," I tried to tell him, taking deep breaths, one hand on my hip, the other splayed across my chest, but I wasn't, and he knew that.

Perhaps seeing that I was in no fit state to, he took charge, stepping fully into my apartment and closing the door behind him. The flowers he put on the hall table, then he wrapped one arm around my shoulders and propelled me into my living room. Once there, he sat me down on the couch before disappearing somewhere, coming back with a glass of water in his hand. "Drink this," he ordered as he sat down, and I can't remember ever hearing that much authority in his voice before. When the glass was empty and he'd taken it out of my trembling hand to lay it on the table, he turned to me. "What's happened?"

"I'm fi-"

"You're not fine!" I jumped at the volume of his words, and when he saw that, he visibly reined himself in. "You're not fine Ainsley," he said again. "You're sitting here, barely holding yourself together, you've obviously been crying, you're not fine." He shook his head, blowing out a breath of air between his lips. "Did someone say something to you?"

I shook my head.

"It's not work?"

Again, I shook my head.

"And somehow," His voice was dry, and when I looked up at him, there was a wry smile on his lips. "I don't think the thought of my company is quite so bad that you'd be this upset." He blinked then. "I hope."

I'm not sure if his words were designed to make me laugh, but a giggle escaped me anyway, and his face broke out into a smile. "It's not you Sam," I said, reaching over and laying a hand on his arm. "Truly."

He nodded, and his hand came to rest over mine. "Who is he?" he asked quietly.

My breath caught in my throat before I answered him, and I knew that I absolutely could not tell him the truth. However, I also knew he deserved as much of the truth as I was able to tell him, so that's what I did. "I was seeing someone," I finally admitted.

"I didn't know."

I shrugged. "I like to keep these things to myself," I told him, fibbing only slightly. "It was…I guess you could say that we were serious. I thought we were anyway."

"What happened?"

"The age old story." I attempted a smile, one that fell rather short. "There was someone else that he was attracted to. They went out on a date. He swore to me, up down and sideways that nothing happened between them. But I was so angry at him, I threw him out."

Sam nodded. "And now you're regretting that." His voice hadn't changed at all during the whole time that we were talking. He sounded sad and wistful and resigned and a thousand other emotions that I can't even name.

"I didn't mean to hurt you Sam." It was important to me that he know that. "I would never do that. You've been such a good friend to me…and you deserve better than this, I know that."

"I believe you Ainsley." He leaned back in his seat. "I think that maybe I always knew that there was someone else…I just thought…" He shrugged, shaking his head. "Never mind what I thought. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I whispered, tears coming to my eyes.

He was silent for a long time, or maybe it just seemed that way to me. Then he moved my hand from his arm, wrapping it up in both of his. "Do you love him?" he asked me.

I opened my mouth, then shut it again when tears began to stream down my cheeks, when the lump in my throat made it impossible to talk. All I could do was nod my head.

"Then tell him," he told me simply. "Don't cheat yourself out of something great."

I stayed sitting upright for all of maybe two seconds before I threw myself into his arms, sobbing. To his credit, he didn't even hesitate, he just held me, and when I'd calmed myself down, when I was wiping my eyes, he stood up, kissing me on the cheek, and began to make his way towards the front door. I followed him, stopping him with a hand to the arm, standing on my tiptoes and kissing his cheek again. "Thanks Sam," I whispered, and he just nodded.

"Anytime."

When the door closed behind him, I picked up the phone, just looking at it for a long time. Then I called Leo, and went over to his place where I told him everything I’d just worked out. I thought that he might tell me to leave, that he wouldn't want to be with me anymore. Instead he put his arms around me, and held me, and that was the happiest I'd felt in so long.

At least until the night of the First Lady's birthday party.

That was the first night that he'd ever told me that he loved me.

He'd never said that to me, although he'd tried, the night that we broke up. I stopped him, told him that that wasn't how I wanted to hear those words for the first time.

The night of the party, when we were kissing in my office, I had no such qualms about hearing them, and I kissed him for all I was worth. Then he went back to the party, and I waited for a few minutes before I left my office, just in case.

We've been taking things slowly, in fact, that night was the first time that he'd kissed me since the night we broke up. Which is also why I wasn't sure about going off to Hilton Head; after all, I remembered all too well the last time that I left town.

I never thought my vacation would be so short, but since I'm here now, I've been loaded down with work, and not just of the television variety. There are stacks of files on my desk, and I'm just about ready to look through them when there's a knock on my office door and in walks Sam. "You did well," is his opening statement and I bestow upon him one of my brightest smiles as I drop down into my chair.

"I know," I told him, because I do, and he chuckles.

"Am I forgiven for interrupting your vacation?"

"Not even close," I tell him firmly as I shake my head.

"But you have to give me credit for trying."

"I really don’t Sam." He sits down in the chair across from me, hands tapping on the armrests, which is never a good sign with him. "What do you need?"

"Need?" His eyes open wide, and he doesn't blink, the classic deer in the headlights look, a sure sign that I've caught him on the hop. "Ainsley, I don't need anything. Why would you think-"

"Sam." I lift one eyebrow, and his expression stays as it is for a moment before he smiles and visibly relaxes.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything," he begins. I frown, not understanding, then he continues. "On your vacation? Because, you know, if you were with someone, maybe someone that you didn't want to be taken away from…"

"You didn't Sam." Having understood what he's talking about, I hasten to reassure him. He doesn’t look convinced though. "Really. I was there with my college roommate, Cassie. Her family have a house there."

"Ah." He nods sagely, his fingers running up and down the armrests of the chair now. "I didn't ask before…because I didn't want to pry…"

"We're seeing one another again," I tell him quietly, hardly able to look at him, but wanting to let him know the lie of the land. "It's early days," I continue as he nods. "We're taking it one day at a time." Which is true enough. It took a week from that first visit to the party before he kissed me, and since then, that's the most he's done. He hasn't stayed over at my apartment, we haven't made love. It's been back to basics for us, and it feels really nice.

"Good." But his smile looks a little false, and it doesn't quite reach his eyes, and I feel something twist in my stomach. If there was one thing I'd take back from the last few weeks, it would be agreeing to go out with Sam. I had no business involving him in this; I should have let him down easy. I wish I had. "I'm happy for you," he whispers. I meet his gaze and smile, and he does the same before he stands up. "Well, I'm going to Toby's office to look at some of the shows."

"Why Toby's office?"

"The TV is broken in mine. Plus he's got a couch." He tilts his head at me as if a thought has occurred to him. "Want to come?"

I look at him, then at the pile of work on my desk. "OK," I shrug, following him out.

We go down to Toby's office and we look at the various news programs and some of CJ's press briefing, but I beat a hasty retreat when Toby comes back to his office. The speech, I listen to in my own office, but only half-heartedly as I plough through the memos that I neglected earlier on. I manage to get through a serious amount of my work before my phone begins to ring, and I pick it up blindly, wondering who it might be, hoping that I already know.

"Hello?"

"Hey." His voice is low and amused and I can picture the smile on his face that goes along with the tone of voice. "Imagine you being here."

"Just imagine." Even though he did call me yesterday, and get chapter and verse on how I felt about my vacation being cut short, he's still going to tease me over it. Probably for the next several weeks if I know him. However, since I've missed being teased by him for weeks, I'm not that inclined to complain. "Where else would I be when I have so much work to do?"

"You did good on the talk shows," he tells me, probably hoping that his praise will deflect from any annoyance I may be going through. As it happens, while Sam told me the same thing, as did, amazingly enough, Toby, hearing it from Leo means more to me.

"I serve at the pleasure of the President," I replied breezily, trying not to let him hear how pleased I was with his assessment.

"You feel like getting out of there?"

I lift an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair. "Out of my job? Or out of the office?" I tease, and I hear him chuckle.

"Want to meet me at the place?"

I'm already turning off my computer. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

It isn't lost on me as I drive that this will be the first time since we got back together again that we've been here together. It's a momentous occasion for us; after all, this is the place where we spent so many nights together, just talking, getting to know one another. Even after we got together, it was our special place, to the extent that we didn't even need to use its proper name - it's just "the place" to us.

When I get there, no surprise, he's there before me, sitting waiting at our usual table. I remember the night of the press conference, the night that he lifted me off the ground and kissed me in full view of everyone. He'd never done anything like that in public before, which makes it stand out in my memory, nor has he done anything like it since. We both know that we have to be careful, but the emotion of that night made us forget ourselves, and I'm glad of it. That memory has seen me through some rough days.

There's none of that tonight though, he simply stands, pushing out a chair for me, and there's a brief moment of awkwardness as we sit and smile at one another, the table in between us. There was none of that in the old days, and something twists painfully in my stomach. It doesn't last long though, because our regular waitress comes over to the table, a huge smile on her face. I think the last time I saw her was when I was here at Christmas, getting cake in the hopes that it would cheer up Leo after the hearing. Her pencil is poised above her pad, but I don't think that she needs it. Her next words bear me out. "Cappuccino and cheesecake for you Sir, and for you Ma'am, a decaf mocha latte with chocolate cake, cream and fudge sauce?" She looks from me to Leo, as if daring us to contradict her, and we both look up at her before looking back at one another and laughing.

"Sounds good to me," Leo says.

"Me too," I manage to say through my giggles, waving my hand dismissively.

The waitress nods decisively, giving us a last parting smile before she heads off towards the counter, and I give Leo my full attention, receiving, for my troubles, a full wattage Leo McGarry smile, which, let me tell you, is quite a sight. "I guess the more things change…" he says thoughtfully, and I nod.

"We were creatures of habit."

At the word habit, Leo looks down, and I wonder what habits he's thinking of. "Ainsley…" he begins, but I don't let him continue. I know from the tone of his voice that he's going to say something about Christmas and what happened, and right now, I don't want to hear it.

My hand on top of his has him looking up at me, and I shake my head. "Don't Leo," I say, my voice barely a whisper. "I don't want to bring up the past tonight."

His eyes meet mine and he smiles at me. "OK." It's at that point that our food arrives, and I draw my hand away from his, missing the contact the instant that it's gone. "So," he asks after a minute. "How's the new job working out?"

I swallow my cake quickly, washing it down with a sip of coffee. "I wanted to talk to you about that," I tell him frankly. In point of fact, I wanted to talk to him about it when Sam called me back, but I wanted to wait until I saw him and we were talking face to face, and that only came about tonight.

"I didn't tell Sam to call you back, if that's what you're thinking," he says quickly. "I thought you needed this vacation, you know that."

"It's not the vacation Leo," I tell him quietly. "It's the promotion."

He swallows hard, which is unusual, because he hasn't taken a bite of anything since I started on this train of thought. "What of it?"

"Sam told me that I got promoted when he told Bud Wachtell that it had already happened."

Leo nods. "Sam needed to tell Wachtell something to appease Republican sensibilities and moderate Democrats after the President's thing," he says. "He suggested a Republican promotion, Sam didn't want it to look like he'd just promoted you because he was told to, so he said that you'd just been promoted. So he was told to make you visible. That's what he did."

"Yeah. Sam told me all of that," I tell him flatly.

"So what's the problem?"

"I told Sam that I don't want a promotion I didn't earn." I put down my fork, crossing my arms on the table and leaning towards him. "Which means that I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that I didn't get promoted just so you could score points with me."

The reply is immediate. "That's not why you got promoted." I must look sceptical because he continues. "A position did open up; Babish was looking at candidates. Sam knew that when he talked to Wachtell and based, in part on that, but mostly on your job performance this past year, you were chosen." He spread his hands wide. "It was a done deal before it got to me."

I nod. I think I knew that deep down in my heart, but I wanted to know for sure. "I suppose you had nothing to do with me getting a nicer office either." My voice is more teasing this time, the question asked as I spear a piece of his cheesecake.

"Not my department," he tells me. "Besides," he adds with a shrug, scoring a piece of my chocolate cake in retaliation. "I was quite fond of the old place."

That makes me laugh; of course, Leo always could make me laugh. Across the table, he laughs too, and I'm reminded of all the nights in the past that we sat across this very table, or down in the Steam Pipe Trunk Distribution Venue, just getting to know one another, falling in love.

And now here we are, having shared so much, meant so much to each other, and it's like we're getting to know one another all over again. Like we're starting all over again. It's not as scary as it might have seemed to me a couple of weeks ago. In fact, it feels right. Like this is the way that it's supposed to be.

I'm not naïve enough to believe that we can just pick up where we left off, that everything is going to be fine. I know that we've got a long way to go before we can be what we were again.

But we'll get there.

Together.


End file.
